Half Past One
by B. Banana
Summary: Complete, shonen-ai. Another Viktor/Flik from yours truly! Jealousy and tempers run high in the mercenary fort! How will Flik react, now that there's competition? This story isn't as dramatic as this summary makes it out to be!


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"Half Past One"

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DISCLAIMER: Not mine, don't own the characters, but I do own the story, but making no profit. 

WARNING: Guys lovin' on other guys, having a fun-filled yaoi time. Flik and Viktor, naturally. I suppose that this could be a continuation of "I Don't Want Your Love," if you look at it that way, but it could also stand alone, I think. This is another one of those five-hour-efforts, by the way. And I promise I'll finish "Emerald Promises" soon! I'm almost done with the third chapter!

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Flik got up, as usual, just as the sun crested the trees behind the fort and filled the room with hazy, golden light. The songs of a variety of different birds almost managed to mask the sound of Viktor's snoring, but the harsh rattle of the other man's breathing continued to ring out triumphantly. Sometime during the night he had rolled over, effectively pinning Flik between the bed and the wall. But this was something Flik had long gotten used to, and he didn't even think about it as he climbed over the larger man to get out of bed.

The new light of the day illuminated every inch of the small room they shared -- from the stacks of books and maps on the desk, to the dirty laundry that was haphazardly strewn across the room, to the large plate of food they had shared the night before. Flik was not a messy man, but neither was he a particularly neat one. However, it seemed to him that Viktor went out of his way to keep the room in a constant state of disarray. Sometimes Flik pitied the maid, who came at the start of every other week, but, then again, it was her job to clean up after them, after all.

And it wasn't as if he was using his own room across the way.

Crossing the room to the small wash stand, Flik gazed into the basin of water there. It looked mostly clean, which was a shock considering the chaos around him. Pulling a straight razor from the stand's single drawer, he splashed his face with water. After a little searching around, he located the mirror, moved for some reason to the far side of the mantle. Flik began to shave slowly, maneuvering the blade over the planes and angles of his face. It was part of the ritual he went through every day and it required little to no thought on his part. His mind was far away when Viktor suddenly sat up and said, "Hey!"

The loud retort of his voice in the otherwise silent room scared Flik, causing the razor to jump and fall out of his hand. "Dammit!" He exclaimed, holding one hand to the left side of his face, as blood oozed from between his fingers and dripped into the clean basin of water below.

Viktor looked over at him apologetically, coming to his senses all at once. "Sorry," he said, "I was having a dream." Flik did not say anything, but studied the wound in the splotchy old mirror. A small knick, just below his left cheekbone, definitely noticeable. He swore again under his breath, picked up the razor, and continued. Viktor watched him from the other side of the room. Just as it was part of Flik's daily routine to shave, bathe, and dress, part of Viktor's was to watch the other man as he carried out his morning activities.

Flik moved back and forth across the room, trying to find clothes clean enough to wear. Viktor looked on with an appreciative eye as the other lifted, examined, and dropped several garments before settling on a large shirt that probably wasn't his and a pair of leather breeches. He wondered absently if Flik was planning on going riding today or if he just couldn't find anything else. After procuring his clothes for the day, Flik once again joined him on the bed. His eyes remained trained on his feet as he settled back on Viktor's legs and pulled the clothes on. Viktor reached out, brushing the hair away from Flik's face and looking at the cut.

"It's not...so bad," he said, letting his fingers trail along the strong curve of the other's jaw. Flik turned at looked at him, glaring slightly but leaning into the touch.

"What were you dreaming?" Flik muttered, eventually moving away so he could continue to dress. He pulled the shirt over his head -- it was indeed Viktor's shirt, it hung loose and billowy on his slighter frame. He turned slowly around the room looking for his boots. Viktor admired the view when Flik stooped to retrieve them from under the desk.

"I don't remember," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. He fell back on the bed and crossed his arms behind his head.

"So I don't even get to know why I hacked my face up?" Flik cast a darkly humorous look at him. He took his belt from around the lamp and fastened it around his waist. "Are you ever going to get up?" He asked.

"Yeah, eventually. I have to ride over to Muse today, anyway." Viktor said, sighing and getting up. He pulled the sheets away, began looking for his own clothes.

"Oh," Flik said, pausing by the desk to flip through an open book, troubled frown on his face. Viktor was going to Muse more and more often nowadays. Flik didn't get to go with him very often -- someone had to stay behind and run the fort. He didn't really want to go anyway, because...

"Anabelle and I need to discuss some matters." Viktor continued. "But I should be back before it gets too dark. Wait up for me."

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Because he knew he was going to see her.

Flik continued to scan through the book, every muscle tense; his very stance illustrated his discomfort. He wondered, if he asked, would he even be invited to go? But something stopped him from asking -- he really didn't want to know if that privilege would be denied to him. He didn't want to have to see Viktor make up an excuse if he couldn't.

Lost in thought as he was, Flik didn't see Viktor approach and almost jumped out of his skin when the bigger man embraced him from behind. "You're cute when you're concentrating," he muttered throatily in his ear. Flik, with an annoyed look on his face, pulled away.

"Quiet, I'm not cute," he said. Viktor gave him an odd look but found, once again, that Flik's face was turned away from him still gazing at the book. He shrugged.

"Fine, handsome, then." He moved to where Flik was and kissed him briefly.

After a moment, Flik loosened up. He seemed to shake himself and said, "Have fun, then. I'll see you tonight." He exited the room, slipping through the door with nary a backwards glance.

After the door had closed and he was alone in the room, Viktor released a long sigh. He and Flik had been together for a long time, but there were still times when the man was fickle and unreadable, leaving Viktor completely in the dark. Sometimes he just couldn't understand the other man, his moods would change with the smallest of words from Viktor, always making him wonder: _What had he said? _He'd found that it was best to just weather it out; Flik always came around in the end.

He was sure by the time he got back that Flik would have worked whatever he was having a problem with out by himself. At least that was what he hoped. Viktor wasn't in the mood to sleep by himself tonight -- or any other night. But luckily for him, Flik wasn't much the type to enjoy an empty bed, either.

Sighing once again, Viktor got dressed. Unlike Flik, he didn't much care if the clothes he put on were clean or not, just so long as they didn't reek or have humongous stains on them. No one really expected him to be immaculate, anyway. He supposed that was one of the perks of having a reputation like his -- no one really expected any more out of him, and that was just fine.

He would have to start out pretty early, if he truly did wish to make it back before dark. The sun was already pretty high in the sky, and all the men would have been up for hours already. He and Flik were not the earliest of risers -- but then, they really didn't have to be. It was great to be your own boss, and if any of the men had any problems with it, Viktor had never heard them. Viktor liked to think that he was intimidating after being compared to a teddy bear for so many years, but he knew that everyone was more afraid of Flik than they were of him.

Flik was a nice guy, most times. He liked to drink and play around just as much as the next guy, but if you got him out on the battlefield -- or the training-field for that matter, he was a completely different person. He was ruthless, and sometimes even Viktor was frightened by his intensity. He didn't permit weakness, laziness; anything. Viktor hated sparring with the other man because it was inevitable that someone would get hurt, and it was usually him. Not to mention, Flik was a horrible loser on those few times when Viktor actually had managed to score on him.

Viktor was glad that most of the men liked him anyway, despite his occasional hardness. But it was unavoidable that every now and then they would have a problem. One of them would always be too cocky, or resent being ordered around by a foreigner (Flik's accent was painfully obvious, this far north) and it would always result in a conflict. Of course, they all ended the same way. But if he didn't know better, Viktor would say Flik got a kick out of putting the men in their places.

The duality that Flik seemed to possess never seized to amaze Viktor. It was what made living with him so interesting; he was never bored. Everyday brought something new thanks to him. Viktor was sure he could never have stood the horrible monotony that was being a mercenary without him.

The moment he stepped out of the room the raucous noise and lively bustle of the fort assailed him. During the daytime the place never seemed to stop moving, as if there was always something to be done in every square inch of the building, which Viktor was pretty sure that there wasn't. It seemed unrealistic to him that the floor be scrubbed once _everyday_. Surely it couldn't build up that much grime in less than twenty-four hours. When he had asked one of the maids about this, she'd just stared at him, shook her head and continued scrubbing. He felt like a moron and hadn't asked again.

On the way outside he passed Flik, whom was chatting with Leona at the bar with that voice of his. No matter where they were in the fort, Viktor always imagined he could hear it, and he was probably right. Despite its quietness, Flik's voice always seemed to fill the room, but not in the same way Viktor's did. Even after being with him three years, Viktor still could not put his finger on what was different about it.

He waved as he went by, but Flik went up to him anyway. Viktor paused, hand on the door.

"Come back early, if you can," he said, "there are things we need to do here, as well." Viktor, picking up on the hint in the comment, smiled widely.

"What? There's something that you can't accomplish on your own?" Viktor said jokingly, watching as Flik subtly shifted his stance.

"Well, you're spending so much time in Muse with Anabelle, I thought that you might be able to help me out with the finances. It's become apparent that neither of us have any bookkeeping skills. I'm afraid we're several thousand potch off balance." Flik smirked as Viktor's expression went from smiling to troubled.

"I guess, I -- We...Hm." Viktor started, deep frown creasing his brow. Flik continued to watch as the other man got more and more upset.

"I'm kidding. We're only a few off," he said after a short while, holding back a chuckle. "I'll see you later tonight," Flik turned away, back to the bar.

"Bastard," Viktor said to his retreating back with a glare. "Good bye, everyone," he called out to the room. After receiving a few muttered good-byes and half-hearted waves, he left the room.

Back at the bar Flik waited for Leona to give him a cup of coffee. As she approached holding the mug she said, "Rough night last night?" Motioning to the cut on the side of his face. Flik once again ran one finger along the mark, frowning.

"No, I cut myself shaving," he said, accepting the mug from the woman. She laughed.

"Oh, come on, Flik! That one's about as original as 'I fell down the stairs.' Now how did you really get it?" Leona leaned over the bar, determined to get every juicy detail.

Flik started at her, a bit taken aback. "I really did get it shaving," he said. She studied him for several more seconds and sighed.

"I suppose that might be true." Leona said. "But you're not going to tell me that the 'bracelets' you're wearing, there, are from practicing." He looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time the ring of deep bruises around his wrists. Flik's eyes widened and he gave her an evil look. She smiled. "I see."

"Damn you, Leona," he said into his mug. With the last laugh, she went off to serve her other patrons. Flik, for the second time that day, swore under his breath. He hadn't been aware that the previous night's activities had left any evidence. Flik shrugged. Oh, well. They wouldn't be doing that again...probably.

He was halfway through his cup of coffee and thinking about nothing in particular when the seat to his right was suddenly taken. "So it's true then," the man said. "The Blue Lightning truly has been...harnessed, as it was." Flik looked over at the man, not immediately sure what reaction to take. The man sneered. Recognizing the expression for what it was, he sighed and waited for the man to say what would inevitably follow.

"I just don't understand where someone like you -- a foreigner, especially -- gets off on tellin' us what to do. Perhaps you'd like to explain it to me?" The man said, getting up. When Flik didn't say or do anything but smile into his cup of coffee, he grabbed the upper part of Flik's arm, planning on hauling him up off his seat. The second he made contact with the sitting man, Flik whipped around and decked him in the face. The man fell to the floor with a clatter, holding his nose and mouth. Flik sat back down, cracking the knuckles of his left hand.

"_That's_ why," he said, smiling widely. "You're fired." Upon closer inspection, Flik realized that he'd split the second and third knuckles of his hand when they'd collided with the man's teeth and he would have to clean it up pretty soon, lest it get infected. Leona came over, frowning at Flik and peering over the bar to see the man lying there.

"I really wish you wouldn't do that in here," she said. "And why do you always fire the handsome ones?"

Flik laughed. "Can't have any competition around here, can I?"

Snorting, Leona said, "As if that was ever a problem." Shaking his head and stepping over the writhing man, Flik left to go outside. He frowned as the man made a passing grab at his ankle, which he easily avoided. Flik didn't want to say that incidences like that one happened on a daily basis but they were getting pretty frequent. He shrugged.

It was trying at times, but he enjoyed a good fight every now and then, and he hadn't been beaten yet. Actually, he was pretty sure the only one capable of beating him was Viktor, and they expressed their frustrations with each other in a different way.

Flik stretched under the mid-morning sky. Several people waved as they walked by and he returned the gesture warmly. It was a beautiful morning, and he could tell it would be a beautiful day, not too warm, not too cold, kind of like the winters where he grew up. It seemed like spring might finally be gracing this part of the world again. For this, Flik was happy; it seemed that every winter he spent here in the north was colder than the last. And the last one had been the worst yet. It had been so cold that not even the dogs would leave the fort to play outside.

That wasn't to say that he didn't have fun locked up indoors, either.

For a while, Flik oversaw the training of the men, looking on from the sides while they sparred and trained, and at one point, even taking up a sword himself. It was such a nice day that he dreaded going back inside to study the maps and strategies and books, so he made up reasons why he should stay outside. But the time came when he could no longer put it off and he trudged back inside with one last wistful glance to the gently swaying trees and the wide blue sky.

When he got to the desk in his room, it seemed to be filled to overflowing with material that simply could not wait and had to be dealt with _right now _or face dire consequences. Flik sat on the bed and glared at it from across the room. If he didn't know that Viktor was doing his fair share of work, he might have been pissed off at having to be chained to the desk everyday. As it was, he was already mad that Viktor got to make frequent trips into Muse.

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No, a part of him said, _you're mad because he's going off to see her and not staying here with you. You're _jealous_._ But Flik quickly squashed the thought, immediately dismissing it as simply ridiculous. Anybody would be upset in his situation. There was only so much paperwork one could do. And why would he ever be jealous of Anabelle?

He had met her when they had first come to this country to create their band of mercenaries. He'd known that the idea had originally been hers. They were only here because of a promise made between Viktor and Anabelle a long time ago. Flik had not immediately seen anything special about her. She may have known Viktor longer, he was much more attract--

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Stop.

Suddenly that paperwork was looking really nice to get lost in. Flik quickly crossed the room to the desk, grabbing whatever happened to be on the top of the pile and opening it. It was their annual accounts. Fine, he could work with that. Because he did not allow himself to be distracted, Flik was soon immersed in reviewing the seemingly endless list of numbers. Using his all of his scant arithmetic skills, he worked on the figures for over a half-hour.

In the past year, they'd spent more than 400,000 potch on armor alone. Amazing...

Suddenly Flik slammed the book shut. It wasn't that amazing. What was amazing was that he was still thinking about Anabelle and Viktor. What was amazing was that he was jealous of the woman. But what was really amazing was that he was comparing himself to her and suddenly he didn't feel as confident as he should have. He and Viktor had been together for upwards three years and never had either of their eyes strayed. Did he actually think that Viktor could do that to him? No, not really. He didn't think Viktor would ever be unfaithful. So why was he filled with this doubt?

Flik was a twenty-five year old man. He was in his prime. He was attractive, well-built, charming, and had superior fighting ability. He loved Viktor in every way he could. What more could he want in a man? Absolutely nothing. Flik trusted Viktor, he truly did. At the end of the day, it would be he who Viktor returned to. Even though during said day he was with...

Flik shook his head. It didn't matter. Viktor wasn't interested in women, he never had been. At least, that was what Flik thought. He had never thought to ask about Viktor's previous lovers; it had never been important -- up until now, that is. But it didn't matter, Flik proclaimed loudly in his head. He was with him now and they were happy together, damn it.

Flik told himself that, and mostly he believed it. Calmed for the moment, he was able to concentrate on what he had previously been doing. After he had cleared his mind, he found it much easier to work. He wasn't stumbling over the simplest of addition problems, anyway. Another hour passed and he was still trying to balance the accounts. By the fifth time around, Flik was ready to throw the book across the room. He just couldn't seem to break even. Rather than ruin the record, he gently set it aside and picked up the book directly underneath it.

He was trying to figure out the men's wages when he next looked up. The sun, now in the western half of the sky, was beginning to deepen in color. A sudden pang in his abdomen reminded him that he was hungry. All he'd had to eat all day was a cup of coffee. He got out of the chair and stretched, bringing life back into his limbs. As he reached for the ceiling his spine popped in several places.

Just as Flik was preparing to leave the room, he heard Viktor's heavy footsteps on the stairs outside. He leaned against the desk and waited for the man to enter. He was eager to see him again, after the doubts he was having earlier. In a way, he needed to confirm that they really were just doubts, and he was sure that being with him would cement his trust in Viktor.

"Hey," Viktor said as he threw his saddlebags on the floor and sat down on the bed. He started unlacing his boots. "You'll be pleased to know I squeezed some more funding from our venerable city of Muse." Flik ignored him, not wanting to hear about Muse or Anabelle. He joined him on the bed, hunger suddenly forgotten.

"You're home sooner than I expected," he said finally. Viktor looked up from his boots, startled by Flik's tone.

"Is that a bad thing?" Viktor returned. Flik was sitting at the head of the bed, legs crossed, head resting in his hands. His smile was full of invitations. Viktor, at the edge of the bed, leaned back, putting most of his weight on his hands. Flik shrugged.

"What did you do all day?" Viktor asked, changing the subject. He let himself fall back on the bed, resting his head on his crossed arms. Even as he said it, Flik moved across the bed so that he was sitting closer to him. When he was almost directly above him, Flik said, "Nothing, paperwork."

"Hm," Viktor said. He was distracted by Flik's long-fingered hand as he began picking at the laces of his shirt. Then he noticed the bruised, scraped knuckles of his left hand. "Hey, what happened to your -- " Viktor was interrupted when Flik lowered his head and kissed him, lips moving slowly against his own. He caught Viktor's lower lip in his mouth, worrying it between his teeth.

Viktor wasn't really surprised by the other's man initiative but he was coming on pretty strong today. He was usually a bit more subdued. He wondered if something were the matter with him.

Flik did not break the kiss as he moved to straddle the larger man, placing his hands firmly on the other's chest. Before he could do anything, Flik's hands were up under his shirt, skittering over his bare skin. But when he felt Flik pulling at his belt, Viktor sat up, pulling Flik with him. The other stopped and looked at him questioningly.

"What's gotten into you today?" Viktor asked, his voice a bit breathless.

"Nothing, I'm just glad to see you," Flik said, grinning lopsidedly. He pulled some of the hair out of his face. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, I just don't...I'm not...ah..." Viktor trailed off, waving his hands frantically in front of him. Flik leaned back, though he was still in Viktor's lap, face expressionless. After a while he turned away with a humorless smile. The man's sudden refusal hit him harder than it otherwise would have. It increased his worry tenfold.

"What's the matter with you? Wait, never mind. I don't want to know." And Flik was gone as quickly as he came, out of the room and stomping down the stairs before Viktor could say another word. Inside, Flik was burning with rage. What had just happened didn't prove anything; the rational part of him knew that, but it sure had done a lot to increase his suspicions. In all the years that he'd known him, Viktor had never once turned him down.

Viktor didn't hesitate going after him, though he knew from experience that it probably would have been better just to let the other man calm down for about an hour or so.

"What's your problem?!" He called out to Flik, who was already at the foot of the stairs. He turned and looked at Viktor and with an extremely rude gesture, moved into the main room. Viktor barreled down the stairs, not sure whether to sigh or to growl. He hated dealing with Flik's sometime touchiness.

Viktor came into the room just as Leona was serving Flik up a beer. She glanced up at him when he came into view, her expression half amused, half warning. "Can't you guys get along for more than a week at a time?" Viktor took a seat near to Flik, but not too close. He waved for a beer as well.

"We wouldn't have this problem if he wasn't so damn touchy," he said, glaring at the other man from across the bar.

Flik's eyes widened. "I wouldn't be touchy if you weren't an ass!" He half came out of his seat and slammed his hands on the bar. Leona, recognizing this dialogue and sensing the ensuing bar-fight, placed a hand on Flik's shoulder, guiding him back onto the stool.

"Now, boys, if you can't play nice, I'll have to ask you to go back upstairs," she said. Viktor just snorted and took a swig of his beer.

"Oh, I'm sure that's the last place Viktor would want to be with me," the light-haired man said darkly, directing the comment at Leona, though it was clearly meant for Viktor's ears.

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" The larger man actually did get up, his loud voice finally attracting the notice of all the bar patrons. Flik laughed to himself.

"Why don't you tell me what you're really doing in Muse? Why are you really going to see Anabelle?" Flik rose as well, pulling himself up to his full height in front of Viktor. He still stood half a head shorter than the other man. By the time Flik had crossed the bar, most of the guests had already had the good sense to leave. Only Leona stood watch, hand over her eyes.

"To see my friend and get some help with this dump here! What do you think I'm doing?" Suddenly Viktor began to laugh.

"Can you _please_ take this outside? Last time you had a spat I had to replace the dishes." Leona muttered, knowing that her voice probably wouldn't be acknowledged. Glancing between the two men, she saw she was right.

"Wait, you're not _jealous_, are you Flik?" Viktor's laughter filled the large room. "Please, tell me that's not it."

A faint pink stain appeared from the tops of Flik's ears and spread over his cheeks. "No! I --" He cut himself off. "Damn," he muttered to himself, looking away. "Well, tell me that you are so I can beat the hell out of you anyway!" Viktor just continued to look at him, mirth dancing in his eyes. Leona hid a smile behind her hand as well.

"Jealous? Over me? Flik, I'm really touched," the larger man laughed again. He crossed the room and slapped Flik on the back, and he would have gone sprawling, if he hadn't been holding his back so tight with a mix of humiliation and anger. Viktor finished, "even if it was a bit misplaced."

"I don't see what's so funny." Flik said a bit later, his voice a bit stuffy. He crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

"Flik, did you ever look at Anabelle?" Viktor said jokily. "She's as buff as I am." Viktor illustrated his point by flexing a bicep. Flik couldn't keep a smile from appearing on his face. Viktor began walking back up the stairs, pulling Flik along with him. "And did you ever look in a mirror? Trust me on this one, baby, you're much more attractive."

"That's what I said," Flik said, though mostly he seemed to be talking to himself. "And I thought I told you not to call me that."

"Deep down, you like it." Viktor responded.

Leona listened to the banter of the two men until they loudly slammed the door to their bedroom behind them. Sighing, she removed the fresh beers from the bar and dumped them in the sink. She knew there was no point in staying open any longer as most of the men were usually scared away by Flik and Viktor's frequent little quarrels. She leaned against the bar lazily as she began cleaning up.

Idly, Leona wondered what it would be next week.

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THE END

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